


Cursum Perficio

by Lothiriel84



Series: A is for aromantic [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aromantic, Asexual Character, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Queerplatonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 09:13:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20992355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothiriel84/pseuds/Lothiriel84
Summary: Post nubila, Phoebus





	Cursum Perficio

Eventually, they kiss. It’s inevitable, really; Aziraphale is curious by nature, and throughout the entire course of human history, there’s hardly been a time when Crowley wasn’t happy to oblige him.

It’s nice, in the same way apples are nice – the ordinary, garden-variety kind of apples, rather than their Garden counterparts. Nothing to write home about, really, and while they both agree that they wouldn’t be opposed to trying it again sometime, neither of them feels like there’s any need to repeat the experiment in the immediate future.

“Nice is a four-letter word,” Aziraphale grins slyly, threading his fingers through Crowley’s. “And we all know how you feel about those.”

“Careful, Angel,” Crowley growls, but it’s mostly for show, as they’re currently snuggled together on their newly miracled sofa, and he’s not planning to move anytime soon.

“Love,” Aziraphale muses, his free hand now carding through Crowley’s hair. “Is also a four-letter word.”

“’m not in love,” Crowley mumbles, even as he tilts his head to give him better access. “Nor are you, for that matter.”

“Well,” Aziraphale frowns, considering. “I don’t expect I’ll want to engage in most of the traditional courtship activities, if that’s what you mean. And while I don’t have any substantial objection to us – _knowing_ each other, in the biblical sense, I’d rather take a stroll through St James’s Park any day of the week. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m exceedingly fond of you, dear boy, and I hardly need to be an angel to know that the feeling is, in fact, mutual.”

“Semantics,” Crowley shrugs, or attempts to, busy as he is playing with Aziraphale’s fingers. “I much prefer the term ‘friend’, myself.”

“It does have a nice ring to it, doesn’t it,” Aziraphale agrees easily, his smile a soft, small thing – affectionate. “Best friends. Yes, I like that.”

Crowley hums, noncommittal, and buries his face in the folds of Aziraphale’s waistcoat.


End file.
